Ponder this:

Sunday, January 18, 2009


FATHER AND DAUGHTER, Michael Dudok de Wit, 2000

I lived a dream (last night? last year?).
Voice stream-rounded pebbles moving inside a velvet sack, vibrating through his chest into my skull, felt/heard.
Soft vibrant hair, crinkled perceptive eyes dark in the depths, a weathered face.
Long-fingered, deft, soft, soothing hands.
Held, warm and safe, beautified, beloved for being.

A child’s dream of a father’s love.
I was not a child and he not my father.

A grown woman, I cannot be held safe against life.
Light balance-step rightforwardleftbackward, sea legs.
No luxury of falling: No safety from impact.

I wish it had not been a dream.
I wish it had been real.

Or I wish that he had been dreaming the same dream.

1 comment:

Tigerbi said...

Did you write this? It is hauntingly beautiful